


The Love Song of Tsukishima Kei

by LadyMerlin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Ships Tsukishima/Yamaguchi, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Teen Romance, Third Year Tsukishima Kei, Third Year Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tsukishima Kei & Yamaguchi Tadashi Friendship, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Tsukishima Kei is a Dork, mixtapes, supportive family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-20 07:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13713096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: Kei isn’t good at poetry unless it involves memorising poems for school. He isn’t good with words and feelings unless they belong to someone else, to be recited on demand.Nothing in his life to date has prepared Kei for the depth of emotion required to deal with someone like Yamaguchi, who makes his stupid heart swell up and stutter like he’s going into anaphylactic shock.





	The Love Song of Tsukishima Kei

It’s not like noticing Yamaguchi is a new experience for Kei, oh no.

No, he’s been noticing his best friend for years and _years_ , ever since a timid five year old Yamaguchi had thanked him for being… less than a decent human being, really. He’d seen Yamaguchi and then he’d just… never managed to look away.

He isn’t sure when being _aware_ of Yamaguchi’s existence turned into… well. It had turned into wanting to count the freckles on Yamaguchi’s face, and wanting to know whether they went all the way down his shoulders and back and…

No, this is a different sort of _noticing_ , and Kei Does Not Approve.

-

Really, anyone who tells him that Yamaguchi is “surprisingly” cute is clearly mentally deficient; a blind man could see that his best friend is fucking adorable. This isn’t news to Kei. It is perhaps this absolute statement of fact that clues Kei into just how very fucked he is.

How very, _very_ fucked.

-

It was easier when they were kids. Kei was a little asshole and Yamaguchi was, well.

Yamaguchi was _shy_ , for lack of a better word.

All it took back then was a little persistence from Yamaguchi and Kei hadn’t had any defences against the tiny freckled kid who’d stuck to him like a second shadow. They’d become friends almost by default and then they’d stayed that way, because there was no one else whom they’d _clicked_ with.

It sounded a little sad, but Kei wouldn’t have had it any other way.

He is (still) selfish and he’d been too much of an asshole back then for anyone to really like; not if they’d had any other options. Not much has changed since then. Yamaguchi still looks at him like he makes the sun rise and set all on his own. It had appealed to his five year old ego back then just as much as it appeals to his sixteen year old ego now.

It’s flattering to think that he’s so important to someone other than his parents, who are kind of obliged to love him anyway. Sometimes he even wonders about Akiteru, but. No. His brother probably falls under the same obligation to love him, no matter what his personality is like.

The reality is that he’s the one who’s been played. Because somehow Yamaguchi has become the most important person in the world to him. But he’s still an asshole and Yamaguchi, _well_.

Yamaguchi has options.  

-

Age has greatly benefitted Yamaguchi.

He is still tiny, but then everyone is tiny compared to Kei. It doesn’t seem to matter, though. His presence fills up any room.

Yamaguchi has grown out of his shyness, but not so much so that he’s lost that adorable blush or the way he ducks his head to break eye-contact when anyone says anything nice to him. He’s just shy enough to be cute when flustered and confident enough to be approachable, and just a nice person in general, with a smile to share with anyone who looks his way.

It’s not fair that there might be other people out there whose days are _made_ when Yamaguchi smiles at them. It’s not _fair_.

Still, Kei’s personal favourite thing is the way Yamaguchi smiles at babies. Babies are pretty low on Kei’s own list of favourites, but Yamaguchi’s face brightens like someone has lit beacons behind his eyes and his freckles are pinpricks like stars in the glowing sky through which the light shines, or some such nonsense.

Kei isn’t good at poetry unless it involves memorising poems for school. He isn’t good with words and feelings unless they belong to someone else, to be recited on demand.

Nothing in his life to date has prepared Kei for the depth of emotion required to deal with someone like Yamaguchi, who makes his stupid heart swell up and stutter like he’s going into anaphylactic shock.

The first time it had happened, he’d almost checked himself into a hospital, because no way that much activity in his rib-cage was normal, _no way_.

Fortunately (unfortunately?) Akiteru had stopped him from calling an ambulance, but hadn’t explained much before breaking into helpless laughter when Kei described his symptoms. Unfortunately (definitely), his useless older brother seemed to have thought better of explaining anything to Kei, saying that there are some things Kei just had to figure out on his own.

Of _course_.

Akiteru is tragically incapable of being helpful with anything important.

-

Kei thanks all the gods who might be listening for the fact that he’d had his first sleepover with Yamaguchi _years_ before their first Karasuno Volleyball Camp.

He’s so rarely _so_ grateful for things, but he will forever be grateful for the fact that no one – not even his brother – had been present to witness him hyperventilating over the way Yamaguchi hummed and cooed in his sleep.

Kei will take it to the grave that the only way to stop Yamaguchi is to stroke his hair until he goes back to sleep. He will cheerfully _die_ before telling anyone that Yamaguchi’s hair is the softest thing in the world, except perhaps the way he smiles when he looks at Kei.

Yamaguchi is the softest thing in the world, and Kei will _hurt_ anyone who hurts him.

-

Akiteru has always been utterly useless. Honestly, Kei isn’t surprised he’s still single, and makes sure to let him know this every time he sees him.

His older brother can’t even listen to Kei complain about how absurd(ly perfect) Yamaguchi is for five minutes before breaking down into helpless laughter and expressions of delight. Kei takes solace in the fact that even though his older brother is broader then him, Kei is taller and therefore perfectly capable of putting a hand on Akiteru’s face and pushing him away before he infects Kei with his nonsense.

(It’s far too late. Kei’s case is probably terminal.)

-

Kei is very rarely less than brutally honest, even with himself.

This is not going to end well. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Yamaguchi has options, he reminds himself. Lots of options. And yet…

And _yet_.

-

As a result of having no other viable outlet (or friends), Kei resorts to music.

Based on some dubious advice he’d found on the internet, he _had_ tried to keep a diary for a week or so. But then he’d found his entire family squealing like _idiots_ over his laconic entries, he’d decided that nothing was worth entrusting his secrets to, when his entire family was like _this_. (Yamaguchi would fit right in.)

At least his music is his business and his family respects that (more or less). He’s too serious about it for them to have too much fun with it. It makes him an easy child to have, he supposes. All he ever wanted on birthdays and other special occasions were new headphones or other musical equipment.

He’d never admit it, but the paid version of Audacity was the best gift he’d ever received.

Every time the feelings get to be too much, he makes a mixtape for Yamaguchi, labels it with a date, and leaves it at that. Then he’ll be good for a while until the pressure starts building up inside him again, like a kettle about to boil over. Yamaguchi will never know and that’s probably for the best.

After all, Yamaguchi is a literal ray of sunshine. Kei is just another sunflower facing his way.

( _This_ is the real reason he doesn’t keep a diary; the temptation to write this shit down is too strong, and then he’d _really_ never hear the end of it.)

-

Yamaguchi has a smattering of freckles on his lower back that looks like a smiley face.

It’s small, about the size of a 500 yen coin, a little to the right of his spine, just above the divot in the small of his back where the elastic of his basketball shorts rests.

Kei wants to kiss it.

He’s so _fucked_.

~~(The story of how he found out about that smiley face was another thing he’d take to the grave.)~~

-

There’s a period of time during which Yamaguchi, inexplicably, refuses to cut his hair.

It looks silly, growing out, but Kei thinks it’s cute anyway, because nothing Yamaguchi does could ever be less than fucking _adorable_.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t make it any less silly to look at. Everyone and their grandmother tries to convince Yamaguchi to cut it, especially when it starts growing past his collar (and sticking to the sweat on the back of his neck, but Kei doesn’t think that’s something other people would notice), but Yamaguchi steadfastly refuses.

Everyone, including Yamaguchi’s parents, turns to Kei to “talk some sense into him”, which Kei has no choice but to do, because of the overwhelming societal pressure and expectation or whatever. Also, he’s going to fail a test or two if he keeps getting distracted by the way Yamaguchi’s hair stick to the back of his pale neck. (Kei wonders if it would tickle against his nose, before forcing himself to finish his fucking test paper.)

“Why do you want to keep it?” he asks later that day, during lunch.

“Because it looks cute?” Yamaguchi ventures, sounding unsure even of himself.

Kei shrugs. “You always look cute.”

A beat of silence passes before Kei realises what he’s just said and starts kicking himself methodically and comprehensively, if only mentally.

“R-really?” Yamaguchi stutters, blushing and refusing to make eye contact. He scuffs his right shoe against the dirt and Kei knows without having to look that he’s squeezing his fingers behind his back, the very picture of bashfulness. He really is too _fucking cute to be real_.

Kei nods and then remembers that Yamaguchi isn’t looking at him, instead studying the gravel as though he’ll be giving an examination on it in fifteen minutes. “Yeah, really, Yamaguchi.”

Another beat, and then “do you think any girls might like me?” Yamaguchi looks up at him through eyelashes which should really be illegal.

Kei grits his teeth. He didn’t think anything could have hurt this much but he nods anyway, even though something in his chest is squeezing so tight that he can’t find a single word in his head, because he _wants_ to be a good friend.

“Cool!” Yamaguchi chirps, oblivious to the agony no-doubt twisting across Kei’s face. He just has to keep quiet until he gets home, so he doesn’t accidentally blurt anything out. “I’m trying to be cool like you, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi adds, apparently feeling the need to explain himself. “You’re the coolest person I know, and everyone likes you!”

And at that, Kei really can’t contain himself. He snorts in a way that even he knows is unfairly dismissive. “Yamaguchi, you’re my dearest friend,” he says, not noticing the way Yamaguchi stills like he’s been struck in the head with something heavy. “But you’re an idiot if you think anyone likes me, other than you. You should just keep being yourself, and people won’t be able to help falling in love with you.”

“I-in love?” Yamaguchi squeaks, but by then it’s too late to clarify. Kei is already gone.

-

Generally Kei’s taste in music is pretty preppy, upbeat and energetic despite Kei’s own stoic-ness and lack of expression. Honestly, that’s the type of music that reminds him of Yamaguchi. It has done, for years.

The mix-tape he makes that night is louder and angrier than anything he’s had ever made in the past. And sadder. He doesn’t think about it too much.

-

When Yamaguchi walks into the classroom the next day with his hair cut to its original length, the home room teacher flashes an appreciative smile at Kei, who apparently managed to get through where no one else had.

Kei doesn’t see it. He’s too busy regretting that he hadn’t taken the chance to run his fingers through the ends of Yamaguchi’s hair, where they were soft and curling around his jaw. He’s so busy grieving the lost opportunity that he doesn’t see the quick smile Yamaguchi flashes him, and the considering look that chases across his face.

-

It really becomes too much when Akiteru throws a “TELL YAMAGUCHI” intervention. His parents even pay for cake. Kei clamps down on the voice in his head which tells him he’s being ungrateful when he walks straight out of the house through the kitchen door, and climbs over the back wall to get away.

This isn’t something that can be dealt with so easily, like in a soap opera. Kei’s life isn’t so charmed.

He’ll tell Yamaguchi about his… _feelings_ … when he’s good and ready. When he’s sure that he could survive without his best friend in the entire world, even if it goes horribly wrong.

Yamaguchi will be fine, and of that Kei has no doubt. He has other friends, he has _options_. Kei has nothing. No one, if not Yamaguchi. He’s put all his eggs into one adorable, freckled basket and he’s it, for Kei.

He’ll tell Yamaguchi when he turns eighteen. When _he_ turns eighteen, of course, a month after Yamaguchi’s birthday. He wouldn’t risk ruining Yamaguchi’s birthday like that.

That gives him a little less than six months to get his house in order.

-

Kei’s ill-advised attempt at making other friends is, admittedly, quite poor.

He tries to be nice to Hinata and three people on the team ask if he is feeling unwell. Yamaguchi himself threatens to bundle him up and send him home if he doesn’t start acting normally, so Kei snaps at him and everyone looks so relieved that it’s almost a little insulting.

Is he really like that? All the time?

It’s really no wonder he doesn’t have any other friends. He vividly remembers his mother saying that if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all. Maybe it’s time to finally start taking her advice.

The problem is that Kei so rarely has anything nice to say to anyone other than Yamaguchi. It just means that he gets a whole lot quieter when he bites back all the sarcastic comments and snark. The weight of consequence bearing down on him is overwhelming, almost too much to bear. It means that he doesn’t notice the worried looks people start giving him.

The knowledge that he’ll never have another friend like Yamaguchi is too much to fathom. It distracts him from the idea that he might have other types of friends, too.

-

The next time they have a sleepover, Kei doesn’t turn towards Yamaguchi and stroke his hair when he starts cooing in his sleep. He clenches his fingers into fists and bites his lip but _doesn’t_ move. It isn’t his place to touch Yamaguchi like that, especially when Yamaguchi hasn’t consented to it. Who is he anyway, to take what hasn’t been knowingly offered?

He doesn’t sleep a wink that night, and is grateful that he’s been sleeping less recently anyway. It means the dark circles beneath his eyes don’t surprise anyone.

Oddly, Yamaguchi also wakes up looking less than rested. He looks as confused about it as Kei feels. “Normally, I sleep really well when I stay here. Even better than when I’m in my own bed. I’m surprised.”

Kei gives him the first plate of Sunday French toast with the nicest strawberries on top, and doesn’t say anything.

There is nothing he can say to help this. Nothing can make this better.

-

Yamaguchi ramps up the frequency of his sleepovers after that and Kei doesn’t have the strength in him to turn him down, not when he looks so concerned about him. Of course, his parents are hardly going to object, not when they know what they know.

(They know _too much_.)

After that one time, Kei can’t help it. He physically can’t stop himself from sinking his fingers into Yamaguchi’s hair and stroking him like he would a cat when the smaller boy starts humming and cooing in his sleep. He always subsides into the quietest little sighs of contentment, lips curling up into the prettiest little smiles, and it actually _hurts_ Kei to think about the fact that he won’t have this forever; that this isn’t his to keep.

When _he_ sleeps, _if_ he sleeps, Kei dreams of a world in which he could go to sleep and wake up next to Yamaguchi like this, when they are both thirty-five. He wonders if he can get away with pulling Yamaguchi into his arms at night, and pretending he’d done it in his sleep. He never does, in the end.

He knows it’s a bad idea, because Yamaguchi would believe him wholeheartedly even if he lied, but Kei would never get over having held him, if he was never going to be allowed to do it again. He isn’t strong enough to keep going, after something like that.

-

Kei isn’t sure when Yamaguchi actually stopped using the futon during sleep-overs. In the beginning, he’d definitely offered to take the futon so Yamaguchi could sleep on the bed, but Yamaguchi had never accepted.

It is odd that as they grew older and should have grown apart, physically at least, Yamaguchi has just become even cuddlier with him than they’d been as kids. By any account, two seventeen year olds shouldn’t want to share a single bed, and yet.

Kei already knows why _he_ isn’t protesting; he just isn’t sure why Yamaguchi isn’t either, especially when he has options.

(Once, Kei offers to sleep on the futon if Yamaguchi wants the bed, but the look on Yamaguchi’s face makes him take it back. And anyway, Kei has absolutely no objections to sleeping so close to him. Yamaguchi always smells like clean soap and laundry and tooth paste and night sweat, and he’s like a space heater, radiating warmth into every inch of Kei’s body. Kei never dares to put his nose in the crook of Yamaguchi’s neck and smell. He knows he’d never be able to stop there.)

-

Kei should have known that he’d never be able to keep his cool. He’s been living by the adage his mother had told him, about saying nothing but nice things, but it’s too much to bear when people keep pressing his buttons so casually.

He’s already having a bad day (Yamaguchi’s top is a little short and it shows off a strip of his belly when he raises his hands to stretch and Kei is on the verge of a meltdown, he’s only human for gods’ sake) when a tiny first year _child_ approaches him.

A confession would have been bad enough, but Kei has dealt with those before. It’s worse, because the little twerp actually asks for advice on how to confess to _Yamaguchi_. She asks _him_ , of all people, and Kei can barely comprehend the _cheek_.

(Objectively he knows it’s acceptable to ask your crush’s friends for advice, but this – this is _not okay._ He is _not okay._ )

He briefly entertains a graphically detailed fantasy of using one of his brother’s stupid golf clubs to punt her pretty little head right off her shoulders. She probably sees the murderous intent in his eyes if the way she backs off is anything to go by.

For a few minutes, he’s pleased with himself for not having actually murdered someone, until the guilt sets in.

Yamaguchi is cute – the _cutest_ – and he deserves to receive a _hundred_ confessions from cute-ish first year girls. Just because Kei is a jealous loser doesn’t mean that Yamaguchi should be deprived of all the good and flattering things he can get. Just because Yamaguchi is saddled with a friend like Kei shouldn’t – it shouldn’t mean that he suffers other things too. Kei doesn’t want Yamaguchi to ever regret being friends with him, though he probably already does.

He interrupts lunch to make his own regretful confession to Yamaguchi, which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the smartest idea. He completely misses the hope rising in Yamaguchi’s eyes when he says he has something to tell him.

-

“Uh. A girl?” Yamaguchi asks, helplessly.

Kei nods and scowls, still not making eye-contact. “Some first year with blond hair, about this tall,” Kei says, lifting a hand to Yamaguchi’s ear. The tips of his fingers brush Yamaguchi’s hair and Kei fights to not flinch.

“And she… confessed,” Yamaguchi continues, still sounding confused. Kei doesn’t know what there is to be confused about. He’d explained everything very clearly. “To me?” Yamaguchi asks, again like he can’t believe it. Kei wonders if he’s the one who ruined Yamaguchi’s self-esteem, and hates even the idea of it. Yamaguchi should know just how lovely he is. 

Kei nods again. “That’s right. She told me she likes you.”

“But she didn’t tell me,” Yamaguchi says, voice going a little flat.

Kei winces. Yeah, that’s probably - _definitely_ his fault. “I may have… scared her,” he admits.

“You… scared her,” Yamaguchi says, and this time it sounds like he’s suppressing laughter.

“I didn’t mean to, Tadashi,” Kei blurts out, breaking out his first name. He really feels like shit for ruining a confession to his friend. For all he knows, the girl is the love of Yamaguchi’s life and Kei had ruined it because of his own stupid face. He really is sorry, for more reasons than one.

“It’s okay, Kei,” Yamaguchi finally says, and Kei dares to look up at him. It’s odd how Yamaguchi is _miles_ shorter than him, but standing in front of him makes Kei feel about six inches tall.

“It… is?” Kei doesn’t remember the last time he’d sounded so uncertain. _This_ is why no one should ever allow him to talk. He’s going to staple his lips together so he can stop embarrassing himself like this.

“You didn’t mean it, right?” Yamaguchi asks, and Kei shakes his head. “It’s fine, then. Besides, I wasn’t going to accept _her_ confession anyway.” Kei doesn’t understand the emphasis on ‘ _her_ ’, but it makes him nervous.

(“So, did he confess?” Hinata asks, practically levitating out of his seat with excitement. Yamaguchi wonders sometimes if his friend is full of helium or something, like an excitable orange balloon. He shakes his head and Hinata deflates, like he’s been pricked and all the excitement is leaking from him.

“Someone else confessed to me and he scared them away,” Yamaguchi allows, and Hinata almost knocks Kageyama out of his chair with his flailing. Yamaguchi feels like flailing it too. From the corner of his eye, he can see Kei settling at an empty table with his packed lunch. The dim sunlight catches his glasses and reflects, and for a split second Kei looks really sad.

Yamaguchi picks up his tray and shoulders his bag. “I’ll catch you guys later, during practice, yeah?” Hinata nods and Kageyama stabs moodily at his katsudon, which is as good a response as Yamaguchi is going to get. He really does remind Yamaguchi of Tsukki, and he makes a mental note to whip out that fact the next time he wants to rile his best friend up.)

-

Yachi is awfully familiar with Yamaguchi, Kei notes during practice a week later. Then again, Yachi is familiar with a lot of people, like a cute little sister. Yachi-chan, he thinks. Kei wonders if she’s hiding something more sinister beneath the cuteness, like a kitten with sharp teeth and claws like a raptor.

Thankfully he recognizes the nonsensical nature of his sleep-deprived thoughts before he goes further down that rabbit hole. To all intents and purposes, Yachi is a cute, friendly girl in Yamaguchi’s class, who is also on the Volleyball team, and that’s as good a reason as any to be friends with her.

Besides, Yachi probably wouldn’t stop Kei from hanging out with Yamaguchi if she ever becomes his girlfriend. Kei wonders how their sleepovers would work; if Yachi would figure out that Yamaguchi needs someone to pat his hair before he can sleep well, or if Yamaguchi would be doomed to a lifetime of shitty sleep. Maybe Kei will make a guidebook on the care and feeding of Yamaguchis, and give it to Yachi for their wedding anniversary.

Thankfully a stray volleyball puts an end to those thoughts by hitting him squarely in the face, just as murderous rage is starting to rise behind Kei’s eyes (again). It also puts an end to practice that afternoon, if all the screaming is anything to go by.

It’s fine.

Kei needed a nap anyway.

-

When Kei comes to, he’s still lying on a bench in the gymnasium. That means it hasn’t been too long. Thankfully no one appears to have called an ambulance. He groans a little and tries to sit up, but a lot of hands keep him down, on his shoulders, on his chest, on his legs. Suddenly everything is quiet, and Kei realises it was because they’d all been talking really loudly when he woke up. Shouting? His vision is a mess.

“He looks so cute without his glasses,” someone whispers – Hinata? “Like he’s a hundred years younger, so _cuuuuuuuu—_ ” Definitely Hinata. The absence of his glasses explains why the world is a blur of light and shadows.

“Shut up, dumbass,” someone else says, and the words are accompanied by a smacking sound – Kageyama.

Slowly the hands retreat from his body, all except the two on his shoulders. Kei blinks owlishly and reaches up to rub at his eyes, as if that will help his vision clear. A hand from his shoulders catches his fist on the way up and fingers wrap gently around his hand. He blinks again. That’s Yamaguchi. He’s sure of it. No one else’s hands are as familiar to him.

“What happened?” he asks, even though the words come out more like “ _wha haa_ ”. Somewhere in the background Hinata must be making another stupid face and Kei hears the characteristic smacking sound of Kageyama’s hand hitting the back of Hinata’s head. “Kinky,” he whispers, without really meaning to.

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi whispers back, and Kei can hear the laughter heavy in his voice even though the rest of the world is still swimming around. He really hadn’t meant to say that. “You have absolutely no filter right now, do you?” Yamaguchi asks, but it’s too complicated a question for Kei to answer, or even understand, so he shrugs. That turns out to be a bad idea, sending spasms of pain down his shoulders and neck.

He winces and Yamaguchi’s cool fingers rub soothing circles into his shoulders. He feels himself relaxing almost instantly. “Nice,” he says and then immediately wants to kick himself. Yamaguchi doesn’t seem to react at all, and continues rubbing his shoulders.

Kei can feel his eyelids fluttering shut and even though he’s pretty sure he’s not moving, the world is spinning and it feels like he’s falling backwards. His hands involuntarily reach around for purchase somewhere, and one lands on Yamaguchi’s knee. The second he realises what exactly he’s touching, he yanks his hand back like he’s been scalded but he’s so unsteady that the movement sends him tilting in the opposite direction, and it’s all really very confusing. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if it will help his disorientation, but it doesn’t. “I think he’s got a concussion,” someone says, and that’s all he remembers before everything goes mercifully quiet.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

-

Everyone’s surprisingly nice to him after that. All their juniors and even Hinata and Kageyama go out of their way to be gentle with him. For Hinata this means that he doesn’t randomly tackle Kei in corridors and for Kageyama it means that he buys a box of strawberry milk for Kei at twelve-hour intervals. It’s disconcerting, maybe even more so than the concussion itself.

Oddly it feels as though the entire incident has released some sort of pressure valve in his body, and all the furious tension that had been building up in his neck and shoulders and in the front of his head is suddenly gone, and he feels light again.

He suspects brain damage. That would explain a lot of things.

Yamaguchi spends a lot of time with him while he’s recovering and forbidden from engaging in strenuous physical activity. It’s nice. Well, Yamaguchi always spends a lot of time with him; it’s nice anyway.

Yamaguchi spends a lot of time stroking his hair when he’s just lying around doing his homework.

It’s _really_ nice.

He’s _fucked_.

-

The months fly past quicker than expected and before he knows it his birthday is around the corner, and his self-imposed deadline is impending.

So is graduation, and nothing fills him with dread quite as much as the knowledge that soon he won’t be able to walk to school with Yamaguchi, or spend the entire day with Yamaguchi, or walk home with Yamaguchi at the end of every day, the way he’s been doing for the past twelve years. Even if they miraculously go to the same university and Yamaguchi somehow decides he wants to stay with Kei instead of venturing out to meet new people and make friends, it won’t be the same. It’ll never be the same again.

Kei wants to rewind time, wants to go back and savour every single minute he’s spent with his best friend, doesn’t want to wake up in the morning because it means another day is gone that he’ll never get back.

It’s not healthy. He knows it’s isn’t, but he can’t help it.

-

A box filled with _all_ the mixtapes he’s made for Yamaguchi would have been too heavy for even Daichi to lift, which is why it’s a good thing that Kei went digital for this project.

He’s got a new hard drive (an early birthday present from Akiteru, who might not be so useless after all) and he’s spent ages sorting out folders of his music. He obsesses over it, sorting and re-arranging songs and re-naming playlists. He doesn’t add anything new, because it wouldn’t feel right. He doesn’t delete anything either, because it’d be like deleting parts of his diary, his prolonged love-letter to Yamaguchi.

On his birthday, he goes to Yamaguchi’s house.

This is a break from routine and automatically puts Yamaguchi on alert, which, really Kei should have known would happen. He can’t help it though. The plan is to give the hard drive to Yamaguchi later that night. He wants to spend as much time with Yamaguchi as possible, before it all goes wrong.

The volleyball team have a mini-celebration in the morning instead of practice, which Kei appreciates, even though he’s never been one for celebrations and being the centre of attention. It’s nice, when it’s his teammates and – dare he say – friends, and someone’s brought bottles of iced tea and the coconut biscuits which he once confessed to liking over truth or dare.

It’s really nice when people slip small packages into his hands, little handmade cards and gifts and snacks. He’s never really wanted large gestures; this is perfect. It’s great. He can’t help but smiling a little fondly – _a little_.

It’s a good day, even though he’s dreading what’s coming.

-

Night comes way too quickly and before he knows it, they’re at Yamaguchi’s front door and it’s time for Kei to go his own way.

The hard drive has been in his pocket the entire day and he’s found himself checking it repeatedly, as if to make sure it’s still there and hasn’t somehow evaporated into thin air while he wasn’t paying attention. He pulls it out and knows he can’t put it back once he’s caught Yamaguchi’s attention. “This is for you,” he says, holding it out to Yamaguchi. His hands are trembling.

Yamaguchi looks surprised. “I haven’t even given you your present, why are you giving me something? It’s your birthday, Kei!”

Kei tamps down viciously on the little shudder that runs through his body when Yamaguchi calls him by his first name. He shrugs past the nervous tension building up in his neck and grits his teeth, making them tingle in a not-exactly-pleasant sort of way.

“You can give me my present tomorrow, if you still want to. This is –” and here he takes a deep breath to steady himself. He’s about to vibrate right out of his own skin. “This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and I’d like you to have it.”

“Kei, if you wait just two minutes I’ll bring you your present right now! You should have it on your birthday itself.” To his credit, Yamaguchi looks like he knows something important is happening, but hasn’t figured out exactly what it is.

Kei shakes his head and can feel heat blooming beneath his skin. He’s panicking and his stomach is churning and his blood roaring in his ears. His vision is swimming and he knows he’s probably swaying. His mouth is dry and he can’t quite breathe properly and his knees are shaking –

“No,” he repeats, making his voice as firm as he can manage, which is not very. “It’s okay. The best present you could give me is if you’d consider still being my friend after – after.” Yamaguchi still hasn’t accepted the hard drive in its soft foam casing, so Kei pushes it into his hands until he has no choice but to accept it and then – there’s no other word for it – he flees.

-

Everything that happens after he gets home is a little bit of a blur.

He wakes up in his own bed the next day, feeling like shit. He doesn’t remember falling asleep but he must have managed somehow. His eyes burn slightly but it’s not that early, so he must have been crying. He wonders if this is what people call an out-of-body experience. He feels like he’s seeing himself from a distance, and it’s really strange how divorced he feels from the fear and the anguish that he knows is bubbling underneath his skin. Maybe he’s trying to pretend that this has happened to someone else, and not him. Maybe that’ll make it easier to deal with.

It’s Saturday, so there’s no school and no morning practice either. The house is quiet so he guesses his parents have gone to the market in the next town, and god knows where Akiteru is, it’s not even worth imagining. Still, he’s not looking forward to explaining the situation to everyone. It’s a relief to be the only one at home, which is pretty much the only reason he manages to roll out of his bed and stumble into the kitchen. Also because he’s hoping that a cup of hot tea might help clear the fuzz from his brain and make him feel more human.

He’s not expecting to find Yamaguchi sitting at his kitchen table.

He swallows hard and doesn’t make eye-contact, turning instead to the cupboard where his mother keeps the tea.

“Hi,” Yamaguchi ventures, banishing Kei’s hope that he’s an apparition or a hallucination of some sort. He sounds very real. He sounds very normal too and hope builds up in Kei’s chest until he can feel it in his throat.

“Morning,” he rasps back. His mouth is dry.

“Well, technically it’s afternoon,” Yamaguchi replies and there’s a note of teasing in his voice that Kei is incredibly grateful for.

“Did you—” he starts, at the same time as Yamaguchi says, “You didn’t stay long enough to see my present.”

Kei honestly doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he shrugs slightly. “Sorry?” he tries and Yamaguchi shakes his head fondly, looking down with his hair covering his face. Suddenly Kei wants to reach out and move the hair away, just so he can see Yamaguchi’s face. He’s on edge and this is making it worse –

“Did you listen?” he asks, when the silence stretches for a beat too long.

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi replies and then looks up at him, making unflinching eye-contact. “But it didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, you know?”

The implications of that filter down into Kei’s mind and he feels his own knees go weak with shame. “Oh,” he hears himself say, and the distance is there again, so his own voice sounds like he’s hearing it from outside his body. “I see.”

To his credit, Yamaguchi seems to realise quickly that Kei is not okay. The next thing he knows, he’s sitting down on a chair? Maybe? And Yamaguchi’s hands are on his shoulders and he wants to flinch away but none of his muscles are working the way they’re supposed to, and he’s just frozen in place.

“I think we’re going about this the wrong way, Tsukki.” At that Kei can’t help but flinch. Of course this is going wrong. He’d known it would, all along. “Can I promise you that everything will be okay?”

“I don’t know, can you?” Kei responds, and it’s something he must have said a hundred times, so often that it had become an inside joke, and he doesn’t even mean to say it, it just comes out, making everything flippant. “God, Yamaguchi, can you even promise that it’ll be okay?”

Yamaguchi’s fingers tighten on his shoulders. “I absolutely promise that it will be okay, because I know something I think you don’t know.”

There’s another beat of silence, and then: “Well, what is it?”

“You’ve got to tell me something first. What was in that hard drive you gave me?”

And that’s not – he hadn’t expected that. Obviously it was music – Yamaguchi had listened to it so he knew that too, so that’s not what he’s asking. He’s asking a different question.

And Kei knows the answer to this one.

“It’s my confession.”

Because really, that’s what it had been. A confession he’s been making over and over every other week for the past seven years, every song bursting with the words “I love you, I _love_ you, _I love you_.”

Kei isn’t sure when he closes his eyes, but he opens them when he feels Yamaguchi’s breath just inches from his face. “I accept,” he whispers, and that – it doesn’t make _any_ sense at all, nothing in the world makes sense anymore and he’s about to protest this nonsense when Yamaguchi’s lips touch his, and then it’s like everything in the world falls into place, and the roaring in his head goes gloriously quiet.

It’s hardly a kiss, little more than a chaste press of lips, but Yamaguchi’s eyelashes are touching his cheeks and Kei suddenly relates to every goddamn love song he’s ever heard like the lyrics are his own words. A bird trills in the garden outside and Kei feels it almost viscerally, like the sound could have been produced by his own heart, swelling up and singing as loud as it can until it could _burst_.

His hands find Yamaguchi’s waist and his fingers clench tightly in the fabric of his t-shirt, like he needs something real to make sure he’s not hallucinating this, to make sure this isn’t some sort of fever dream or if there’s a carbon monoxide leak and he’s hallucinating – Yamaguchi’s shirt is warm from his own body heat.

He can’t explain why he pulls back to apologise but he’s grateful that Yamaguchi takes the opportunity to lick into his open mouth, sending heat searing through his entire body. He’s _more than_ grateful that he’s already sitting down, because he’s not sure his legs could have supported his weight any longer.

Yamaguchi doesn’t persist though and Kei’s a little grateful for that too, because this is verging on too much for him to handle. He pulls away, but doesn’t move far from Kei, staying close enough that his tea-scented breath is hot against Kei’s face and he kind of wants to die right there, because nothing could ever be more perfect. Or so he thinks, until Yamaguchi’s hands come to rest very carefully on his thighs, and every single neuron in Kei’s body spontaneously catches on fire.

Kei sits there just breathing, for a handful of long moments. “You accept,” he repeats, and Yamaguchi nods. His hair _moves_ with him, all soft and silky and touchable, and Kei wonders if Yamaguchi will allow him to kiss his head.

“Your confession. I accept. I love you too.”

And really, it’s not fair how simple he makes it sound. Kei has been struggling with this, with his feelings and the magnitude of everything inside him for _years_ now, and it’s just not fair that Yamaguchi can say it so easily, like it means nothing.

No, but that’s not right. “I love you so damn much, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi continues, and his voice is serious and his eyes are heavy and solemn. “I was so scared you’d hate me.”

Kei _doesn’t_ whine in denial of the thought that he could ever hate Yamaguchi. “Me too,” he admits, giving in to the urge to press his forehead against Yamaguchi’s forehead. They’re so close anyway, it’s not that big a deal, even though Yamaguchi’s skin against his is the nicest thing Kei has ever felt.

“Can I kiss you again?” Yamaguchi ventures after another moment of silence, and Tsukishima nods hesitantly, even though there’s really nothing he’d like more, hesitant only because he’s not really sure how to kiss, doesn’t want it to be weird. They kiss anyway and it’s a little bit gross, how there’s maybe too much spit and Yamaguchi’s incisors are unexpectedly sharp and there has to be a better way to do this because Yamaguchi’s knees must be in a terrible state from being in that awkward position for so long, but he he’s not going to break the kiss even if the lack of oxygen _kills him._

Yamaguchi is warm and sweet and steady and his entire world is standing ten centimetres away from him and Kei hasn’t cried in years. Thankfully Yamaguchi takes the initiative to pull away from the kiss, because Kei honestly didn’t have the strength to do it himself. Thankfully Yamaguchi doesn’t draw attention to the tears running down his cheeks in any way except drying them gently with the tips of his fingers, lingering touches to his face and his cheeks.

“God, Yamaguchi.”

“We’ve had this talk, Kei. People who are going out should call each other by their first names, and no one else. Unless you’re trying to tell me—”

“Are we going out?” Kei asks, because he’s still terrified that this is just a dream of some sort.

Yamaguchi – Tadashi snorts and it’s too cute to be real, it should be _illegal_. “I should hope so, else I’ve just made a fool out of myself.”

“No more than I’ve done, Tadashi,” Kei replies, and his smile is worth it, the way it lights up his entire face and makes it look like he’s glowing.

“Now, we could have avoided all this drama if you’d just accepted my birthday present last night. Can you imagine how long I’d been planning that?” Tadashi asks, and it’s clearly a joke, but Kei can’t help but reply.

“At least as long as I’ve been planning mine, I’m guessing?” Tadashi nods and strokes his hair again, and it’s really nice.

Tadashi nods at a wrapped package on the kitchen counter behind him, but doesn’t move away from Kei. “Open it.” Kei reaches around Tadashi’s side to bring the package between them. It’s clearly a book, and unwrapping it reveals that it’s a diary with Yamaguchi’s name written on the front. Kei looks up at Tadashi, a question in his eyes. “It’s my diary for the past couple of years. I didn’t write in it every day, or even every week, but. Well. It’s my confession to you. I’d been meaning to give it to you for the longest time.”

It’s such wonderful symmetry that Kei can’t help but laugh, can’t help but fist his fingers in Tadashi’s shirt and pull him closer, close enough that he can press his face into Tadashi’s chest. Tadashi’s arms come around his shoulders in a hug and that makes the moment absolutely perfect.

Kei doesn’t even think it’s possible for things to get better until Tadashi starts humming one of the last songs he’d put on the mixtape. He huffs a laugh. Tadashi’s going to be teasing him for this forever, but it’s okay, because it means Tadashi’s going to be around forever, if Kei has anything to say about it. He can tease all he likes.


End file.
